Treason in the Living Room
by Animegoil
Summary: Schuldig always chooses the most convenient parts of Crawford's instructions to listen to. Nagi and Farfarello add their two cents. Schwarz family banter, oneshot.


**Prompt was miscommunication - which just leads to regular Schwarz family banter  
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**Enjoy!**

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><p><strong><em>Treason in the Living Room<br>_**

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><p>"Why are you mad? You told me to trust my gut, and my gut wanted your ass bullet-free."<p>

Schuldig's voice, despite the strain of his gritted teeth, doesn't hold back the pleasure he derives from twisting Crawford's words. He bucks slightly when Crawford tugs the bandages tightly to knot them, baring his teeth and kicking Crawford's shin. His voice hitches as he growls, "Fuck Brad, that hurt!" He digs his teeth into Crawford's shoulder in revenge, but they all know this routine to be a rather harmless one.

Crawford levels Schuldig with a steely glare and pushes Schuldig's face away, purposefully pressing on the faded bruise on the his cheekbone. "It helps us in no way for _you_ to be the bullet-riddled one."

Schuldig opens his mouth with an assuredly-witty retort, but Nagi cuts him off.

"Would you guys cut it out?" Nagi lowers his book with a put-upon sigh. He uncrosses his legs and shifts a bit on the hotel's couch. "You have this argument every time one of you gets hurt. Stop arguing like a married couple and admit you'll always take a bullet for the other." Granted, his words are aimed more at Schuldig than at Crawford—probably because Nagi can't actually look Crawford in the eye and say all that. The extracted bullet lies on a wad of tissues on the floor, glistening wetly with Schuldig's blood, and Nagi uses his telekinesis to lift all of the dirty bandages and utensils and deposit them in the sink or trash as befits.

"Yes, do indeed listen to the lamb," Farfarello joins in, his head peeking out from behind the couch, where he has been lying on the carpet reflecting the sun's rays from his knife onto the ceiling. He's been in a phase of fascination with reflections for a few weeks now. "A lover's spat is most disrupting to the atmosphere."

"Har har, let's see how a higher dose of tranqs disrupts _your_ atmosphere."

"Hmmm." Farfarello looks at Schuldig, no doubt completely unfazed by the threat and lifts his knife, reflecting a beam of light straight into Schuldig's eyes.

"Fuck!" Schuldig shuts his eyes and throws a wad of paper in Farfarello's direction, which merely flops harmlessly on the floor a few feet away. Shuldig crosses his arms as Crawford picks up their first-aid kit and goes into the kitchen.

_You didn't have to be so mean, kid. I mean, married couple? That's embarrassing._

_If you weren't so_ mushy _about it_. Nagi doesn't even bother looking up from his book.

_Hey. Keep up that sass and I'll be telling Brad about your games. _Schuldig doesn't have the grace to not looks smug. The only sign Nagi shows, and the only one Schuldig needs, is the way his fingers tighten on his book.

_What… games?_

_Oh, you know… the ones you can play one-handed_.

_You wouldn't. _Nagi glares at Schuldig, but his face is quickly succumbing to his damned blush-reflex. Schuldig laughs. Obnoxiously, like this is extremely amusing. Nagi thinks it's mortifying… oh God, if Crawford finds out about those…

_Oh, but I would. In fact, I did. _He nods towards the kitchen. _Brad's been listening in to this whole conversation._

Nagi freezes, eyes widening, as Crawford walks back into the room, wiping his glasses.

_He's… _Nagi watches Crawford with his back ramrod-straight, but all Crawford does is sit in his reading chair and pick up the newspaper. Nagi narrows his eyes at Schuldig. _You're a liar._

"He's not," Crawford says. Nagi makes a sound like he's melting, and covers his scarlet face with his hands, and Schuldig crows in victory. "But I have been aware of the presence of these games for some time. Mostly because Schuldig is particularly fond of them."

Schulding chokes on his laugh. "Brad! You backstabber!"

"Couldn't have you bullying Nagi as such." Crawford smirks slightly and proceeds to ignore Schuldig in favor of his newspaper.

"Not like our dearest Mastermind doesn't provide us ample opportunities for blackmail material every time he comes home inebriated," Farfarello adds blandly, still toying with his knife.

"That hot-tub in Prague!" Nagi snickers. Schuldig pales and sinks deeper into his chair, crossing his arms and pouting.

"I hate you all. Every single one of you. With every single beautiful red hair on my head."

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><p><strong>Oh Schu, go sulk over in that corner there<br>**


End file.
